


Chance Encounters

by wonderlandiscrumbling



Category: Fright Night (2011), Laws of Attraction (2004)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Oral Sex, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Sex, Vampire Hunters, Vampires, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:34:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26502205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wonderlandiscrumbling/pseuds/wonderlandiscrumbling
Summary: Peter has been losing interest in hunting lately, his show isn't as popular as it had been a year ago, but on the upside he has met a new interesting stranger he wouldn't mind getting to know better.
Relationships: Thorne Jamison/Peter Vincent
Comments: 50
Kudos: 18





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry that I've pretty much been non existent on here, I've been going through a lot of personal things, but I do want to get back into writing.

The night club was filled with familiar types. There were the college aged girls with their bleach blond hair huddled in groups, stumbling around in their high heels, mixed drinks in hand, faces flushed, and eyes bleary from one too many drinks. There were the men with short cut hair spiked up, their skin freshly tanned, their polo shirts unbuttoned, and they would flock to the girls in their groups asking what their plans for the night were. There were the ones who were there but didn’t look like they wanted to be, typically dragged there by their friends or a sibling, told they needed to get out and mingle more, and of course there were the goths that stayed amongst themselves. Peter recognized a good dozen or so of the people filling the club, the colored strobe lights casting an ugly glow over the faces of the people on the dancefloor, bodies sweaty, grinding and writhing in time with the music, the bass pumping causing a low vibration to flow throughout Peter’s body. He looked down at the small shot glass in hand, he downed his shot, and then waved the bartender over requesting another. He pushed his fingers back through his mess of short brown hair that was insistent after hours of wearing that damned wig to fall over his face and into his eyes. He’d considered coming to the club wearing the costume for his show but decided against it. He’d traded in suffocating leather trousers for skinny jeans, no shirt and a duster for a tight fitted black t-shirt. He still wasn’t exactly comfortable, but comfort wouldn’t get him laid.

He leaned back against the bar and watched people, smiled and nodded sometimes, he’d managed a few short lived conversations with women who recognized him from his stage show, the great Peter Vincent, or the world’s greatest hack according to a lot of the reviews he’d been receiving lately. He supposed that it didn’t help that vampires weren’t as popular in the mainstream as they had been a year ago, him and his producer had been going over some ideas for his show. He could trade in fake vampire slaying for some over the top gory magic, possibly incorporate werewolf hunting, or pretend he’s a witch. It killed him to consider dropping the vampire hunting side of his act, it had been his idea years ago when he’d first arrived to the states, it had always been a form of therapy for him, but now he might lose that. Of course, there was real hunting, something he hadn’t done for about a week now. He’d been less inclined and much less motivated ever since Charley moved out of state to go to university, he was happy for him of course, but at the same time it sucked losing a friend. Even if that friend had been a teenage boy who had quickly become in charge of dealing with him when he overdosed or got himself arrested after a drunken bar fight. The kid was better off far from him, away from vampires. Except of course that left Peter on his own and he was by no means Van Helsing, he wasn’t a born slayer, he was just a bored revenge hungry punk who decided finally at the age of thirty-four to begin hunting vampires for real. He’d tried chatting up more legitimate hunters, unfortunately for him though they knew of him, of his show on the Vegas strip more specifically and practically laughed him out of the room. This all left him going solo, getting his ass kicked on a good day, nearly mauled to death on others, thankfully for him not all strains of vampires could turn somebody by just biting them.

He downed another drink, his body was starting to get that warm light feeling as if he were floating, muscles relaxing as he nodded his head to the music playing, he no longer cared about his hair falling over his face. Another drink in and he pushed away from the bar bored with the loner creepy guy act and began trying his luck at finding somebody to take back to his flat for the night or the weekend if he got lucky enough, he never much enjoyed going home alone. He tried his luck with a couple of women who were on vacation, they had been nice and had nicely declined his offer to come back to his place and see his sword collection. Unluckily he ran into three women and two men he’d promised to call back after having one night stands with them, all of them less than thrilled that he’d not only never called them back but had blocked their phone numbers shortly after they’d left his flat. After ten drinks and two dozen rejections he felt ready to stumble towards the park to try his hand at drunken vampire slaying, that was until he caught a glimpse of somebody new hanging out at the bar looking drunk and mostly bored. 

The man was a bit shorter than Peter was, his hair was thick and dyed black, spiked out in all directions yet didn’t look stiff. His blue eyes scanned the crowd, occasionally a smirk found its way to his pale face, the black jeans he wore looked impossibly tight in the best way possible, the black tank top he wore rode up over his stomach giving Peter a nice view of the strip of dark hair going from his belly button down past the hem of his jeans. For just a second Peter imagined himself running his down that path, but quickly pushed the thought from his mind. Of course, if this went well then, he wouldn’t have to just imagine touching and kissing the gorgeous bored punk at the bar. He sauntered up to him doing his best to appear at least partially sober, the man’s eyes landed on him, a more genuine smile finding its way to full lips as he pushed himself away from the bar.

“Don’t think I’ve seen you round here before.” Peter started, his voice slightly slurred, the stranger laughed and stepped closer to him.

“I’ve seen you before, you got the show on the Strip right, the vampire one.” He responded, eyes scanning over Peter’s body, he didn’t look displeased.

“You seen it?”

He hummed giving a short shake of his head, “haven’t got the chance yet, saw the posters though, they don’t do you much justice.” 

Peter smirked, he nearly blushed when the stranger reached up to brush the tips of his fingers along his jawline, eyes alight with interest. “These club lights don’t either, we could get out of here, someplace nicer.”

“Are you asking me back to your place?”

“If you want, could go to yours of course.”

The stranger took another step closer the front of his body brushing against him, he could feel the heat of his body, smell strong cologne mixed with cigarette smoke and alcohol on his breath, on his clothes. Hesitantly Peter placed a hand against his hip, rough fingers brushing against the sliver of bare flesh, the man leaned up brushing his lips against Peter’s jaw, his chin, then finally just barely against his own lips before pulling again. 

“Not tonight luv, I’ll catch you another time, alright?” 

Peter watched as the stranger turned and walked away from him, he was too drunk to find it in himself to go after him or to ask for a name, instead he took this as a sign he would in fact be going home alone tonight.


	2. Chapter 2

Peter cried out in pain as his back collided with the edge of the wooden bench, in the process of being tossed around like a rag doll he’d dropped his wooden stake, the vampire that a second ago had been a foot away from him was now looming over him, nearly straddling his lap. The monster stared him down, crimson eyes glowing with manic delight, the light of the street lamp glinted off sharp elongated fangs, a pointed tongue ran across its bottom lip as it made to grab for him balling the front of his t-shirt in its hand hauling him up onto his feet and against its chest. Its body was cold and solid, Peter kicked and flailed, he reached into his back pocket, his fingers stroked against the surface of a pocket knife, he grabbed it, slipped it from his pocket, opened it and plunged it into the side of the vampire’s neck. While the blade was steel and wouldn’t do a damned bit of good it did catch the bastard by surprise, long enough to make him drop Peter back to the ground as it began grabbing at the handle of the blade sticking out of its neck. Peter limped away headed towards the discarded stake that lay in the wet grass, he just wrapped his fingers around it as the vampire lunged at him again, blood spurting from the hole in its neck, the smirk from earlier was now replaced with a snarl, hate in its eyes as it made to jump him. Peter turned and hauled his arm back ready to plunge the stake into its heart but didn’t get the chance.

A hulking black shadow slammed into the side of the vampire throwing it to the ground, Peter stumbled back, eyes wide as he watched the figure tear into the vampire’s throat with its fangs. It took him a moment to realize it was a wolf or something wolf like, definitely not a normal wolf one saw in the woods or at the local zoo. This one was twice the normal size, its fur was thick and black, but missing in places as if it had mange. He couldn’t see its eyes, only its ears that were pinned flat back against its large head, deep growls escaped its mouth as it tore into cold dead flesh, the squelching wet ripping sound filled the air. 

“Shit,” Peter muttered as he watched the wolf, the monster ceased in its eating slowly raising its head and turning to face him. Blue, it had blue eyes.

“Shit, shit, shit.” Peter began backing away, he raised his hands up as if to show he meant no harm as he backed away from the wolf. It made no move to chase him, its head tilted slightly to the side as it watched him as if he made the thing curious. “Good puppy,” the wolf made a sound like a growl but without the aggression before turning back to its discarded meal seeming less interested now.

Peter wondered if he should do something about this; he’d never seen a monster outside of vampires before, he knew they existed, presumably, but had no proof. He knew most likely this was a werewolf, but the thought of that was completely insane. Yet there it was sniffing at the corpse of a vampire, its blue eyes glowing. It wasn’t as if it had hurt him, it was acting as if Peter weren’t even standing barely a foot away watching it, it technically had saved his life. 

“Thank you I guess for saving me, now if you don’t mind, I think I’ll just fuck off.” Peter announced to the less than interested wolf whose vocal cords weren’t exactly designed for human conversation.

Peter took two more steps back before realizing the wolf truly had no intentions of attacking him, once he was certain of that he turned and ran back to his car with full intention to drink himself stupid once he returned to his flat.


	3. Chapter 3

He would be lying if he said that he hadn’t been preoccupied for the past week with thoughts of the werewolf that had saved his ass in the park. Some part of him wanted to shake off the whole idea of werewolves existing as utterly ridiculous, but he’d seen it; he knew there were no other options to what the monster could have been. That still of course didn’t answer the question of why did it save his life, why did it just devour a vampire’s corpse and let Peter go on his merry way? He didn’t know very much about werewolves outside of what he’d seen in American Werwolf in London and Teen Wolf. He wondered if werewolf media was offensive to real werewolves, wondered if it was even accurate, not that he had any near future plans of testing to see which methods of killing werewolves worked. The one he’d seen the other night had been a massive bastard, he imagined on two legs it would tower over him. 

He scrolled through Google on his phone as he sat in his dressing room after his show, he looked at drawings of werewolves and lycans, read through basic Wikipedia pages and a few forums for people to roleplay as various monsters they firmly believed to be nothing but works of fiction. He noticed people talked about werewolves as if they were victims of a terrible curse, he supposed they were, anybody who was bitten and turned into a monster was a victim as far as he was concerned, but still he couldn’t just let them go around ripping humans throats out as they pleased. It was all a quite vicious circle that he threw himself right into the center of. He opened a second tab just to make sure there hadn’t been any unexplainable animal attacks around Vegas, he saw an article about a man who got mauled by a pitbull that he trained as a fighting dog, but nothing supernatural. He supposed that was a good sign. If the werewolf the other night hadn’t killed any humans then he wasn’t sure there was much of a problem, after all he did hunt monsters that caused harm to the general human population, but if this one wasn’t killing anybody then he had no reason to try and hunt it down.

Not that he was all too positive he could kill it, he imagined with one swipe of a giant clawed paw it could disembowel him, not the way he wanted to die. 

Peter shoved his phone back into his jeans pocket and got up from the flimsy dressing room chair, he took one last swig from his flask emptying it before shrugging on his jacket and exiting the small room. If he had no plans to hunt tonight, then he could at least go out and get himself blissfully wasted. It sounded like a good enough plan, maybe he’d have better luck hooking up with somebody tonight, worst case scenario he could always call up one of his casual friends who might be up for a night of drinking and sex. He’d thought a week ago he had a shot with the punk guy he’d met at his usual hangout spot, had even hoped to catch him at a show or two, but hadn’t. It was a shame really; he’d been a gorgeous bastard even in the club with its flashing unflattering lights. 

By the time that he left the venue the lobby was empty all except for employees cleaning up the mess patrons often left behind, outside the air was a bit on the cold side he thought pulling his jacket tighter around himself as he headed down the crowded sidewalk shoving through throngs of drunken tourists and regulars to the city. Shouts and laughter, cursing and the occasional angered shouts filled the air along with the swelling of music coming from the night clubs and casinos that he passed by. There was one thing he could say about Vegas, it was the worst place in the world to live if you wanted to escape people and loud sounds. Thankfully for Peter this was his favorite environment, an escape from quiet villages in England where the populations were low, and everybody knew his name for all the wrong reasons. At least here people only knew him for his shows and even then, once he was out of the wig and fake tattoos, they didn’t give him much of a second glance. Nobody here knew his parents had been murdered, he was grateful for that, and even if people here knew about his tragic past, they wouldn’t give a single fuck. That was another thing he liked about big cities; everybody was so up their own asses with their own inner personal dramas that they would never take the time to care about his own.

As he walked through the crowds pushing and shoving past people as drunk as he planned to be by the time the sun rose he found himself relaxing, a strange sense of peace in the mundane chaos that surrounded him nightly. Come morning it would be much calmer, tourists mostly too hungover to be bothered to get up before noon time. Despite the fact he’d come to Vegas in his early twenties he still felt like a tourist, it never was quite home, but neither had England, to be truthful he hadn’t felt like he’d had a home since he was ten years old. Ever since he’d just been a guest, a ghost at the worst of times, an inconvenience as far as his uncle was concerned. He had a few missed calls from his aunt, two from his cousin Ian on his phone, they’d left voice messages, but he couldn’t be bothered to listen to them. He’d need to double down on his anxiety meds and a few shots of whiskey before he’d have the courage to listen to what any of them had to say to him, it never helped they called him by his dead name.

Peter turned into a small hole in the wall bar, one that was missing all that manufactured charm that tourists flocked to. Inside it was nearly empty, only a few older men scattered about the small bar room with drinks in hand, most them looking absolutely miserable, perhaps how he’d look if he managed to live to and beyond fifty, he doubted that very much though. He received a few mildly judgmental glances from the patrons as he approached the bar ordering himself a shot of Jack Daniels from the elderly man behind the bar who looked as if he should have retired and escaped this hell hole ten or twenty years prior, but couldn’t afford to do so. Peter pulled his phone out of his pocket and began checking Twitter, responding to hate comments, critics who thought his show was tasteless over sexualized trash, responded to a few fans. He switched over to Instagram where he tended to receive far more praise as well as topless photos from various people who enjoyed his work and hoped to catch his attention for a minute or two. He didn’t miss the fact that he’d lost about a hundred followers, perhaps he should consider the werewolf hunting thing. He’d floated the idea with his producer again only to receive an eye roll and a groan in response. A gnawing pit in his stomach told him the end was near in terms of his career, he opened the notes app in his phone and began typing up ideas such as horror magic, pretend to be a Satanist perhaps, something to shock the masses. Though Satanism and alchemy didn’t seem to fascinate or piss people off the way it did back in the 2000s or the 90s, he remembered his teens when he began painting his fingernails black, wearing black jeans, and even going so far as to pay his friend Janine to buy him black hair dye which they applied in her mother’s bathroom. He chuckled to himself when he thought about how red faced and pissed his uncle had become when he’d gone back home for dinner that night, he’d been too angry to even articulate a proper shout at him, just stormed out of the room. It wasn’t like that now, nobody really cared if little Susie or Billy dyed their hair black or purple for that matter.

He ordered another shot, downed it, and raked his fingers back through his shagging brown hair as he stared down at his phone. This wasn’t getting him anywhere. He was only a bit tipsy and he sure as shit wasn’t going to be shagging any of the old men in this bar. He slipped his phone back into his pocket, paid his tab, and exited the bar drawing the polluted night air deep into his well abused lungs. As he walked, he tried not to think about his future, he found he grew anxious when he thought too much about the future, where he was headed, or if he was headed anywhere at all. He felt like he just fell into a lot of good luck by ending up where he was currently, but that luck seemed to be running out for him, cultures and interests were shifting, people didn’t care about vampires right now, not until another major vampire romance came out then they’d be crawling all over that shit again. If only people knew monsters were real and that he occasionally killed them, he doubted they would be grateful, it wasn’t like hew as all that good at his side job. He remembered being younger and swearing on his parent’s graves that he would kill vampires, avenge them, all of that Bruce Wayne shit that he’d technically done but only after a random teenager guilted him into it.

Maybe his life could play out like a movie and he could have a proper redemption arc, a montage of himself getting sober, training, gaining muscle, eating a proper diet like a normal adult, and he’d become a proper vampire hunter that wouldn’t get laughed out of online forums by people who had never met him but had heard enough to make correct assumptions. Life of course couldn’t work the way it did in movies, he couldn’t just be sober and have his shit together after a montage accompanied by an 80s rock song, instead he’d have to spend months and years putting the work into it, and to be quite honest he was terrified of the person he was when he was sober and forced to confront his life, his fears, and his traumas. He’d much rather drink his sorrows, get high, and pretend that in some small way he had his life together.

As he neared the end of the strip heading towards less populated areas of the city, he felt a chill go down his spine, a sort of tension filled him as he stalled near an alleyway. He turned his head in the direction of the alley peering into the mostly darkness of it, he could make out two figures a couple feet away from him standing near a dumpster, one pressed against the brick wall of a pawn shop, another figure pressed tightly against them, it didn’t take a genius to figure out what seemed to be going on. He started to go on his way only to stop when he heard a deep growl from down the alley followed by a pained cry. 

“Damn it,” he whispered as he turned down the alley already reaching for the stake he’d brought with him for a just in case emergency that he hadn’t planned on.

As he drew nearer he got a better look at the vampire, a large man with short blond hair and deathly pale flesh nearing gray, his fingers were tangled in the hair of his victim, fangs buried in the person’s neck. Right when Peter stepped up behind him and reached to grab his shoulder, he saw the vampire draw away from his victim, a disgusted look on his face as he glared down at the human.

“What the fu-“ 

Peter grabbed him by the shoulder turning him around to face him, the vampire’s eyes widened as he noticed the stake too late to properly react before Peter plunged it into his chest piercing his heart. The vampire stumbled back only held up by Peter’s grip on his jacket jerking him closer, he watched as the vampire’s skin began to dry and wither cracking as if he were made of clay, within a minute the vampire fell to pieces nothing more than a pile of ash on the ground between Peter and the person he just saved.

He laughed as he stepped back staring down at the pile of ash. “Fucking love when they do that, whole dust thing y’know, saves a lot of headache and questions really. You alright?” He asked at last finally looking up at the person he just saved.

His smile dropped when he realized who he’d saved. A reasonably shocked man a head shorter than himself stared at him, blood staining the side of his neck running down pooling in his collar bone and staining the front of his worn white tank top, the shock in the familiar stranger’s brilliant blue eyes faded in a second though as he pushed away from the wall and took a step towards Peter, he glanced down at the ash between them then back up at Peter.

“Suppose I should thank you for that.” He said, voice rough.

Peter shrugged feeling suddenly awkward now that there wasn’t a monster to kill. “Nah it’s fine y’know just….A thing I do, Peter by the way, you already know that though.” He said laughing nervously.

The stranger smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he did so. “Thorne, nice to meet you, again.”

Peter’s eyes were drawn to the two marks in his neck, Thorne seemed to notice his staring, he reached up to touch the marks wincing in pain as he pulled his hand away to examine the blood that now stained his fingers. 

“Do you feel okay?” Peter asked, the last thing he really wanted was for the hot guy he’d met the other night to suddenly turn into a blood sucker.

“Yeah, yeah not a big deal, doubt I’ll become a vampire or anything if that’s what you’re worried about.” He said as he wiped his fingers on the front of his shirt staining it further.

“So, you knew he was a vampire?”

Thorne laughed the sound echoing in the alley, “I didn’t, no I tend to be rather shit at knowing if I’m about to shag a monster or not.”

“Not the first time?”

“It was not, not that it happens a lot or anything of course. Guess I would have been a bit fucked if you hadn’t come in and saved my ass.” 

“It’s nothing, I’d be a shit hunter if I didn’t save people sometimes.” Peter reached out to brush his fingers against Thorne’s neck careful not to touch the tears in his skin. “Sure, that you’re okay?”

“Nothing that won’t heal, another scar to the pile. Of course, if you want to walk me back to my hotel, make sure I get there safely then I won’t argue.” He suggested smirking up at him.

Peter continued to caress his neck not caring that there was blood on his hand now or that there was a pile of dead vampire between them, instead he was focused on warm skin and beautiful eyes that were staring up at him in a way he hadn’t seen for some time now.

“Right, yeah I should do that, maybe I can stay at yours for the night, just to make sure that you’re alright.” 

Thorne hummed in agreement as he stepped over the pile of ash, he took hold of Peter’s hand moving it away from his neck, he brought it to his lips pressing a kiss against his knuckles. “Good idea.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that I've been gone for so long...again, life/personal things really.  
> I promise I'll try to be more active on here. <3

A lazy smile found its way to Peter’s face as he stretched out, a sense of contentment filled him as he felt calloused fingers trail down the dip of his back tracing scars and freckles, a moment later he felt lips press against his shoulder blade, he could feel Thorne smiling against his skin.

“Feel like I should get in danger more if it means a sexy hunter will save me then shag me.” He whispered before nipping against his skin eliciting a soft moan from the other man. 

Peter reached up petting his fingers through Thorne’s messed dark locks of hair, he tangled his fingers in his hair pulling him down until his lips met in a lazy kiss. “I don’t mind the shagging, but we could try let’s say me taking you out for a drink or two after my show tomorrow night, then back to my flat.” He suggested as he pushed him back against the bed moving to straddle his lap.

Thorne smiled up at him as he placed his hands against his hips. “I’d like that,” he leaned up pressing a kiss to the center of Peter’s chest, lips trailing up towards his throat where he bit and sucked against his skin. Peter placed a hand against the back of his neck fingers curling against his skin, he moaned rocking against him feeling that delicious knot of desire coil in the pit of his stomach once more as Thorne slipped his fingers between his thighs teasing at his clit, stroking and teasing his tip as Peter began rocking against him in a slow lazy rhythm. Thorne kissed along his jaw, finally lips meeting his in a deep kiss, tongue pressing into his mouth. Peter tangled his fingers in his hair tugging him closer, shivering as he felt blunt black painted nails scratching down along his back, he could easily imagine a few days like this, fucking on every surface within reach.

Thorne laid him back against the bed kneeling between his spread legs, his fingers slipped from his clit to down between his folds, slipping inside his entrance, Peter moaned rocking back against him driving his fingers deeper inside himself, he cursed as he felt him thrust his fingers harder into him driving them in knuckles deep, his free hand moving to press against his throat. 

“God you’re sexy,” Thorne whispered against his lips, he bit and sucked against his bottom lip as he worked his fingers inside him drawing long desperate moans from the man beneath him.

“Fuck me, please.” He begged thrusting back against his hand.

Thorne pressed a kiss against his forehead as he slipped his fingers out of him, he reached down wrapping his fingers around his cock steadying himself as he slowly guided the tip inside his partner. Peter groaned feeling the sensation of being stretched and filled, a low moan escaping him as Thorne gave a deep thrust burying himself inside his wet heat. Peter wrapped his legs around his lower back keeping him close, he pulled him down into a passionate kiss as he thrust back against him. Thorne moaned against his lips as he thrust into him building a slow deep rhythm, Peter scratched his nails down his back making new marks over the old ones drawing hissing moans from his partner who thrust into him harder eliciting a loud moan of pleasure from Peter as he tossed his head back against the bed, eyes closed. Thorne kissed along his neck, tongue trailing over his skin tracing over the marks on his skin, he kept a bruising grip on Peter’s hips as he pounded into him, fingers finding their way to his clit again stroking him. His thumb teased the tip of his clit, Peter was reduced to cursing and shouts of pleasure, he nearly came when Thorne bit his shoulder nearly hard enough to break the skin, tongue lapping against his skin, the musician’s moans nearly a growl as he fucked into him drawing him closer to the point of climax.

Thorne nuzzled against the side of his neck kissing and licking, his thrusts nearly frantic until he pushed Peter over the edge. He came calling out his name, nails biting into his back breaking the skin, Thorne bit against his neck in response to the sharp stinging pain in his back, he could feel Peter’s walls clench around his cock, could hear the frantic pounding of his heart, his heavy breathing as he rode out his orgasm, he ran his hands down over his trembling thighs, kisses against his collar bones and chest lazy and gentle as he reached his own climax cumming inside him, filling him with his release for the third time that night. He laid against his chest nuzzling against him, Peter pet his fingers through his hair, eyes closed as he worked to catch his breath.

“Fuck that was amazing.” Peter breathed out; he lightly ran his fingers over the scratches on his back. “Sorry about that, didn’t mean to scratch you that hard.”

Thorne smiled; he pressed a kiss to his chest. “No worries luv, I think I marked you up pretty good myself.” 

Peter laughed, “my makeup artist is going to be pissed off having to cover all the hickeys on my neck.” 

“Should keep them, say they’re vampire bites.”

Peter smirked, he trailed his fingers over the side of Thorne’s neck, he felt the small marks from where the other man had been attacked by a vampire, but by now they were nearly gone, just faded scars as if they’d been there for years. Peter had noticed from the alley to the hotel that the marks seemed to heal themselves as if they had never occurred at all, he chalked it up to just more vampire bull shit.

“Maybe you could come to my show, I can get you in backstage afterwards.”

“I’d like that, I can do the same for you, might be the last show my band plays actually.”

“Why’s that?”

Thorne shrugged, “according to my bassist it’s because I’m an insufferable prick and they can’t take my bull shit anymore. I figure I can just replace the fuckers, there’s plenty of people out there who would kill to have a place in my band.”

Peter pet his fingers through his hair, he barely knew the man, but he got the feeling that his bandmates were right about him. Not that Peter was able to judge, he was an absolute nightmare to work with, to be friends with, to date….An all around nightmare actually, it was nice to know he wasn’t alone. 

“So, are you planning on staying here the rest of the night?” Thorne asked looking up at him, it wasn’t said in a way that said to fuck off, more like a genuine sort of question.

Peter gently brushed his fingers against his cheek, “I can, I am rather comfortable here.”

“Cool, thanks, I appreciate it, and y’know the whole saving my life thing.” He said as he laid his head against his chest once more.

“It’s no problem, I’d hate myself if I just let you get killed.” 

Thorne took hold of his hand lacing their fingers together, he brought his hand up to his lips pressing a kiss to the back of it. There was an easy comfortable silence that fell over them, it felt like he’d known him for centuries. He was glad to be spending the night with him, truthfully he couldn’t stand the idea of going home alone again, another night in an empty apartment over thinking about the ghosts of his past.


	5. Chapter 5

Maybe it had to do with the fact that somebody he knew was watching his show, but for some reason Peter felt passionate about his work for the first time in months. Ever since he’d learned that he wasn’t crazy and that vampires were indeed real he’d begun to lose his passion, times changed, pop culture shifted from the world having a raging hard on for vampires to some other nonsense, lowered ticket sales, and it had all left him feeling completely drained. Tonight, though he felt it, felt the energy in the air, the excitement of hiding himself away under the wig and fake beard, driving a wooden stake into the chests of gorgeous voluptuous vampires was enjoyable again. He could lose himself in the fantasy in a way he hadn’t been able to do for some time now, not since Charlie interrupted his life with his wide eyes and his pleas for assistance to kill Jerry. Even the audience appeared to be more interested in his act, for a couple of hours he could mentally transport himself back to a better time before he actually put to use the weapons displayed in his flat.

At the end of it he felt well worn out, proud of himself as he made his way towards his dressing room. He didn’t bother locking the door behind himself, he removed his wig tossing it onto the vanity’s surface, the beard and sideburns following, he shrugged out of the leather jacket and slipped on a t-shirt that he kept draped over the back of the chair. He pushed his fingers back through his messed sweat soaked hair managing to fluff it out the slightest bit, hair fell over his forehead clinging to his forehead. He leaned down looking in the mirror taking in his smeared eyeshadow and eyeliner, his cheeks flushed, he couldn’t help but smile. Perhaps it was the fact he’d just recently gotten laid, that he’d spent a night and half of his morning holed up in a high-end hotel room with a gorgeous rocker who wanted to see him again. It hadn’t been since Ginger that he’d really wanted to see somebody more than once or twice, with Thorne he felt some sort of connection. Maybe because they both knew that vampires existed, sure Thorne wasn’t a hunter, but he hadn’t run off screaming after being attacked by one. That was something, he seemed almost too casual about the existence of vampires, as if it was something he’d known about for years and was just adjusted to by now.

A light knocking on the door pulled him from his pondering. “Come in!”

Thorne slipped into the room closing the door behind himself. Peter approached him pressing him back against the doors surface, he placed his hands on his hips holding him in place as he leaned down kissing him slowly. Thorne tangled his fingers in his hair nails scratching against his scalp. 

“Did you like my show?” He asked before kissing him again.

“Loved it, I appreciate seeing a legit hunter pretend to be a hunter for show.” He pressed a kiss against his jaw, “you looked sexy up there.” He whispered pulling back to look at him.

Peter placed a hand against his cheek brushing his fingers against his skin, he pressed a kiss against his forehead then the bridge of his nose. “What do you say about coming back to mine, few drinks, repeat of last night maybe….Minus the vampire attack of course.” 

Thorne kissed him gently, “sounds good, been curious to see what your place looks like.”

Peter stepped away from him taking hold of his hand, “think gothic museum of torture and horror with a 60 inch flat screen TV.”


End file.
